And they were just as dangerous as the waves they emulated.
“Finn,” I finally said, though it was more of a breath of disbelief than a name.
The sound of his name from my lips made the corner of his quirk higher.
“What—” I cleared my throat, turning my attention back to the provisions list on my laptop screen.Was I really about to ask what he was doing here? It was pretty damn obvious, wasn’t it?
He was here for the season, for the show — just like I was.
Suddenly, I wanted to throttle the producers I had thought were so cute and pleasant, their smiles all wide and beaming every time I spoke to them.
Little weasels knew exactly what they were doing.
“It’s been a while,” I finally said instead, hoping my smile looked at least twenty percent less forced than it felt as I glanced at him and then back at my screen. “How have you been?”
Finn sort of chuckled, taking a step toward me before adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder. He was dressed in white shorts and a sky-blue button-up tucked into one side, the sleeves of it shoved up to his elbows and a brown belt hugging his hips. He looked more like he was paying for a charter than like he was about to work one.
“So formal,” he mused, and his hand inched forward, up — as if he were about to tuck the rogue strands of my hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear the way he used to. Instead, he shoved that hand into his pocket and nodded his chin toward my left ear. “Those are new.”
I let my fingers ghost over the dainty jewelry that had caught his eye, the industrial and tragus piercings I’d had done just weeks after the last time I’d seen him. My neck heated when I remembered that he knew better than anyone that piercings and micro tattoos were my way of avoiding, of giving myself another softer form of pain to focus on when my heart was splitting in two.
“I like them,” he said when I stayed silent.
The way my chest ached in that moment had me ready to double over, and I nearly did when my eyes met his again, when I saw his smile slip. There were a million words left unsaid flashing in those green irises, like ghosts trapped in glass and begging to escape.
He swallowed, his brows folding together and lips parting like he was ready to set them free. Before he could, whatsounded like a herd of horses barreled down the stairs behind him.
“Ah, so this is where they hide all the beautiful people!”
Finn flinched as a large hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed, shaking him a bit from behind. That hand was attached to a very tan, very muscular arm — and a man with a smile so bright it was blinding.
He had long, dark blond hair with streaks that the sun had turned a brassy gold, and where Finn was sharp and put together, this kid wore a t-shirt that had been ripped into a tank top, the arm holes of it gaping so much his entire rib cage was visible beneath it. That “shirt,” if you could call it that, was paired with board shorts that looked so worn they were practically see through.
“I’m Elijah,” he said, still grinning ear to ear as he took his hand off Finn’s shoulder and held it out to shake his hand and then mine. “But you can call me Eli.”
“Hi, Eli,” I beamed right back, thankful for the distraction from the man standing next to him. “I’m Ember.”
“Finn.” Finn introduced himself.
“Right on. You the bosun?” Eli asked.
“Chef.”
“Cheffy!” Eli grabbed his shoulders and shook them cheerily. “You’ll be my favorite member of the crew, then.” He patted his belly as if he had a big gut. In reality, it was a stone wall of ridiculous muscle. “Eli loves to eat.”
I smirked at his reference to himself in the third person. I liked this kid already.
“I’m a deckhand, by the way. This is my first boat of this size, though. I fear I’m a bit green. And you?” he asked me next.
“Chief Stew.”
My chest swelled with pride at that title and introduction, and I swore I felt Finn’s eyes boring into the side of my headwhen I said it. He knew how much I’d wanted this, how long I’d worked for it…
How I’d chosen it over everything.
“Of course, you are.” Eli saluted me with mock seriousness before picking up the bag he’d slung off when he’d barreled into the crew mess. “American?”
I nodded.